Please Don't Spread the Blight of Kluex
by MissTiraMissSu
Summary: Owltalon lived for excitement. There was nothing else to do in the sleepy Avian town but eat, sleep, and farm. A pinch of excitement would do. Just a pinch, like the fanatical Avians up the hill.


Golden armor sucked in the light of the setting sun only to spit it back out as if revolted. The Avian warriors shuffled around the cluster of bricks and debris brought in from across the universe. Even from where Owltalon perched, he could see the stone was worn and possibly repurposed, looking worse for wear. The visitors upon Raven Hill pushed and pulled the dingy yellow stone into place and yelled at each other in words he could only imagine. Owltalon picked a stray straw from his tawny feathers, then settled back into the semi comfort of the thatch roof. His feet smacked against the window frame below him. The thumps blocked out Aunt Sora calling him for dinner. She could wait just a bit longer. This. This was excitement.

A week ago the Kluex worshippers filtered into their world, purposely, so obviously on purpose, picking the hill that overlooked their town. Overlook the Grounded. Assert your superiority. Prove that Kluex is the core of being. Owltalon couldn't care less. The interesting warriors hadn't made any contact with the village. That was how they wanted it.

Regardless of what the village leaders wanted, everyone agreed on one thing. This was excitement. This was new. Finally there was more to life than growing feathercrowns and hoping for the best. Owltalon locked his hands behind his head, breathing in the expanding life that filled the air and appreciating the warmth of the fleeting sun. As he relaxed, something grabbed his foot. He yelped and almost flew off the roof if it were not for the firm tone underneath.

"Get in here before I summon the ghost of your father to smack you. Your aunt has been calling you for the past five minutes, Talon. What the ever loving hell are you doing up here anyway? Do you like torturing your damn aunt? I swear to Kluex, you're a pain in my ass."

Owltalon slid back into the house, dodging the playful whack on his shoulder. Uncle Magpie's eyes were caught in a glare but the smile tugging at the corner of his beak betrayed him.

"Sorry, got caught up in the scene, Uncle Mags."

The black tips of Magpie's white feathers fluffed up slightly, like they tended to do when he was annoyed. Owltalon cringed. He was a teenager. What did the old bird expect? A saint?

"They got more temple up, old crow."

Magpie stiffened. His feathers fell. His beady eyes bloomed open into something Owltalon did not want to identify. It made his stomach freeze then lurch in an attempt to claw it out of the old bird's face.

"Your aunt sent me up here to get you, not chatter."

"Well you look kinda scared. What's going on in that fluff of white?" Owltalon reached forward to rap his uncle on the head. His hand was swatted away with a laugh.

"The only thing on my mind is how your aunt will feel about us being late for dinner."

"You're right, old crow."

"I'm not that wise."

Sora did not take her nephew and best friend being late to dinner. She waved the spatula at them until they put on the best remorseful looks they could muster. Their lateness gave her permission to take control of dinner conversation, but for some reason, words were sparse. Owltalon counted the times Uncle Magpie's eyes sunk into his head, a worry taking over for a flash, soon erased by Sora's prodding attempts of conversation. Aunt Sora was pleased to talk to herself if her two boys showed no interest. She spoke of corn and feathercrowns, pixels and the market, the mines and underground dangers. She neatly avoided the blaring topic of the hill Avians. Their golden armor flashed in the back of Owltalon's mind.

How could she, gossip extraordinaire, not want to speak of the clinking golden armor that ate the sun and spat it out with a fury and rage none could touch? She idled and worked with worn topics he'd grown sick of years ago. Even as she packed up dinner for Magpie's wife, her voice bounced off her heavily decorated walls like nothing was wrong. He hated it. Her feigned ignorance, her happy chirping voice, her overstretched attempts of class and formality. Owltalon bid Magpie good night and climbed the steps to his room. There would be no more Sora tonight.

The temple grew daily. Under his attentive eyes, Owltalon saw brick by brick fall into place by the use of humming Matter Manipulators. Between his classes about how to grow this and that he caught ear of the sole hot topic. The Avians building atop the hill. It hung in the air. It sunk down to wrap around feet and trip the unexpecting into conversations never meant to be. It forced the ignorant and dazed back to the world with trembling power. Owltalon watched the village descend into silent, organized chaos.

Guilt poked at his heart. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this. Fanatical Avians were known for their instability, a trait the Grounded did not have. Relatively speaking. Those who lived here did not think too much of Kluex. A prayer of thanks here. A mumbled curse there. A gasp for wings when you tripped. Nothing too serious. But ever so mundane. With them around, something unmundane twitched in the air like a nightmare, dark and enticing. He shouldn't enjoy the panic that settled upon the village. Dangerous thing lurked in walking distance, living in neat little camps and planting crops. Crops! The idea of them staying excited Owltalon further; what was their plan?

Owltalon sat by his windowsill this time. Downstairs Aunt Sora and Aunt Silver Feather, Magpie's wife, spoke over the worry and concern in Sora's voice rang out between her laughs and jokes. The inability to speak of golden armor and yellow brick in Magpie's presence strained her. It did delight Owltalon. He took this chance to spring up find some friends to pass the night with. One could only hear so much stress. +He pulled on his boots and shuffled down the stairs.

"Aunt Mist."

"Little Mouse."

"You know I hate that name."

"Exactly why I use it." Aunt Sora's prized spatula waved in his general direction. Her hand laid on her hip. "And where are you going. Dinner isn't ready yet."

"I know." He glanced over at Magpie. The old bird was content reading a book in the squishiest arm chair. "Eating first then going out? That all hay and twigs to you?"

Silver Feather giggled. Sora only turned around grumbling about disrespect. Content with the lack of answer, Owltalon plopped in the armchair next to Magpie. It was significantly less comfortable than the hay and wool stuffed plush Magpie roosted in, but it would do to pass the time. Owltalon lay across it, swinging his legs over the arm like Sora hated.

"Old bird. Uncle Mags."

"Little Mouse." Magpie said. His voice barely floated over a whisper, beak moving only when needed. "Where are you going?"

"Out. Hanging with some of the locals cause there's nothin better to do." He propped himself up and hung his head back to gain a full upside down view of Magpie. "You feeling any better, Uncle Mags? You were looking mighty flightless last week at dinner. You know?"

"You have to promise me you won't go near those people."

"Whoa, Uncle Mags. I won't. They're all crazy anyway. Kluexed in the head." Owltalon snapped back up, ruffling his feathers. "You know me, I just love the excitement. Messing with Aunt Mist and the like. I won't touch the place."

"Owltalon."

"Mags," Owltalon whined, swinging his feet. "You always worried too flappin much. Come on, you old crow."

"I'm not that wise."

Owltalon found Magpie wiser than his years and himself reasonably responsible. He listened to Sora when it came to large matters, like school and learning. Other than that he paid Sora little mind. She didn't need to know about his friends and their ways. How one smoked way too much and another draped her arms around shoulders to sip the sweet burn. How they lounged in the bar but never drank the strong stuff, only sipping weaker brews for the sake of sanity. Sanity was in short supply these days. They hung around the back, in the carefully groomed garden that the bartender pruned and picked at every morning.

"Talon, man. Can you believe the adults these days? I heard my dad saying they're gonna run them out of town." Birchwood inhaled, shaking the cigarette between his fingers before taking another drag. Owltalon looked up from where he sat on the ground, a distance away from the fumes.

"They're not even in town though. They're kinda out there."

"In more ways than one." Elm Wing pushed her beak near Birchwood, sucking in the wisps of smoke. She rasped out thanks then danced over to the next smoker. "I heard that some loose feathers have already fluttered away, away, away." Her arms landed upon a girl's shoulders and she sucked the exhaled smoke away just the same. "Joined the cult. Said it was reckoning time or some pigeon crap like that. Stupid."

"Monte Cristo left. To join those guys." Owltalon tossed a rock in the air as he spoke. It sailed in the general direction of the still rising spire. It was the best he could do in this hell of a situation. The glamor glitched with Monte's departure. There'd been a week long scramble to reclaim the boy only to settle on the sad fact he'd gone of his own will. To become stronger in Kluex. Whatever Monte did now was lost even to Owltalon who watched the building daily. But who cared when there were drinks and the strangling haze of cigarettes to choke on.

"They're not gonna leave, are they?" Owltalon tossed a rock between his hands, glancing up at the still climbing tower. "Gonna stay forever and ever. That's not exciting."

"That's all you ever flappin care about. Excitement. Can't enjoy nothin." Elm Wing spun on pointed toes. Her body swayed and rocked to no music, giddy from the earth itself. Hips swayed and her fat fingers wiggled in time to her own beat. Her long skirts swished about her ankles, her bare feet, the braided ankle bands she wore during dance practice. A few whispers bounced back and forth behind him as she neared him. Her beak rested near his and though she took none to her mouth, her breath still reeked of cigarettes. Owltalon coughed a bit. Her green feathers bristled in joy. "Not all excitement ends well." She tapped his nose. "Little Mouse."

The tower now devoured the sun in the later hours. Shade now blanketed the town in everlasting panic. It was complete. It hovered above them with a brazen display of Kluex looking down upon them with glowing, demeaning eyes. When the sun sunk into the waiting tower maw, the red gemmed eyes glowed with unforeseen malevolence. Such a difference. Exciting.

'Well you look flappin grounded, old crow. What's up?" Owltalon flopped next to Magpie on the couch. His legs laid upon the man's lap. Magpie raised an eyebrow but made no motion to move the boy. Dinner would be soon. No point in making a fuss for Sora to sort out in Sora ways.

"That what you kids are saying these days?"

"Don't even start, you crow. So, what's up? You look stressed, Uncle Mags. You need me to get you something to drink?"

"Oh now you're considerate." Magpie pinched Owltalon's leg, ignoring the yelp. "What happened to the sweet little boy I used to know, huh?"

"Grew up into the greatest Avian that ever lived, that's flappin what." Satisfied, Owltalon nodded to assure himself more than his uncle. Excitement could only take you so far. From the rooftops he heard things. Deadly things that involved manpower and weapons the town did not have, heartlessness they all lacked, and bravado they only showed for killing spiders. Something possibly serious was going to happen. Maybe. All the potential charged the air like the red glow of Kluex, poisoning them all bit by bit.

"Old man. You think everything's gonna be okay? I've heard they're crazy up there, sacrificing people and spreading blood all over. A real first class hell hole." He leaned in, brown feathers fluffing up to scare away whatever lurked in the darkest corners of his mind. "We're gonna be okay?"

"We're going to be okay, Little Mouse. Magpie will take care of you." Hands tightened on his leg. Magpie's words and thoughts rarely matched up. This was one of those times. The bird turned to him with a gentle look, a soft warbling look that forced a shot of guilt into Owltalon's mind. "I do love you, you pain in the ass. Have to keep you and Silver and Sora safe."

"I love you too. You always do care of us, you old crow."

"I'm not that wise."

"Wiser than I am."

That wasn't saying much. Owltalon stretched out, resting his head on the armrest behind him.

"Promise me you won't go out tonight? You have classes in the morning and Sora will throw a fit if you leave this time."

"I can do that if you promise to come tomorrow morning and buy me breakfast. Feeling for something other than Sora Pancakes."

"I'll try," said Magpie between laughs. "No promises. She's proud of those pancakes."

"They're good, I swear!"

They chuckled at Sora's dismissive scoff. Smiling Magpie was a treat. Yet, in the corner of Magpie's eyes Owltalon caught the barest hints of strain, a stress Magpie carried now intensified by some unknown source. It would dissipate by morning. Magpie held the rate ability to solve his problems overnight. He'd picked it up in the days before he settled down here in the sleepy town. Back when Magpie the space explorer scooping up Sora the baker and Silver Feather the accountant was the latest source of excitement. That was years ago. Two thirds wed and one third content with themselves, old ways were hard to break even now. What worried the aging space explorer was beyond him. There was nothing to be done about it now. By morning Magpie would tell all between beakfuls of milk toast.

An angel appeared on the tower. Owltalon scrambled to sit up from his usual rooftop perch. Maybe breakfast had something mixed in. Maybe his pingponging crushes manifested into this pure white impossible spector he could never have. She wore a gleaming white dress that rebelled against her hands in the winds. Her once perfectly groomed white feathers puffed in the wind and she looked out at the tiny town. Two armored Avians loomed behind her with weapons he couldn't make out.

She turned to them. The angel screeched at them, waving her arms and pointing until a guard stepped forward. Her hands flew up to her chest in vain. The pointed end of the spear already sunk into her shoulder. The scream was real. It echoed across the town. It sunk into Owltalon's bones and froze him in place. It made her fall even worse, a badge of torture flashing as she tumbled to certain death.

She grew closer to the ground. Her screams grew closer to the town. All below him had stopped, eyes cast at the falling angel howling with the fury of a defeated valkyrie. That assurance griped his heart. He wasn't imagining this. She was real. This was real. The cultists were real. Everything so painfully real that the thump of her body was surreal. Impossible. It couldn't be a real person now rolling down a hill like a discarded toy. Her ragdoll body slowed to a stop at the foot of Raven Hill. Too much. Owltalon climbed back inside with the shade of a setting sun chilling him.

Some warped kindness lay in her dress. So simple and elegant yet drenched in blood and smeared in blue earth. The entire dingy thing as fit for a funeral. Perhaps that was why she was forced into it.

The funeral occurred that day, her father scrambled over covered in soot and the clingy arms of his morning children. The entire town crammed into the square to watch her body burn. There was no fanfare, no decorative ceremony. They spoke off her fondly.

Her name was Eva. She wanted to be a lawyer due to her love of a fight. She had three older brothers, an older sister, a little sister, and a secret pet cat that the youngest sister fed too much. Her father worked too much at the refinery but left little notes all over the house to make up for it. The mother explored space and brought back exotic treats along with lumpsum cash during her weeklong visits. Eva crushed on Elm Wing and Birchwood, tagging behind them whenever possible. She painted in her spare time. Her cat was pregnant. She demanded a kitten be named Potato after the cat got into the sack and chewed on the few left. She'd only gone out for potatoes. That was all. Just potatoes.

Owltalon brushed off his dirty pants. Rushed funeral or not, he felt underdressed. And inappropriate. He'd seen her fight. He'd seen her fall, her spinning form, her flapping arms, her desperate attempts of life while it leaked out onto the ceremonial robes. This wasn't excitement anymore. This was hell, and a fine case of it. The town fountain gurgled next to Eva's spire, innocent and clueless to it all. The scrubbed cobbles latched onto the dirt off an entire village and the boxes of flowers drooped in the glow of streetlights. An uncertain air accompanied the gentle village chatter.

"I was teaching her the Feather Dance too. She tripped on her anklets like wow. Stumble stumble stumble. I liked her." Elm Wing dug her nails into Owltalon. She pushed herself away moments later, inhaling deeply. "Gotta dance. Place is too flappin sad now and they got the instruments. Dance it off. Dance it off off off." She wobbled away to the crowd of makeshift musicians fumbling on the other side of the fountain. Pitchy music filled the air. A circle broke open for Elm Wing to forget her sadness the only way she knew how.

Slowly at first. Her now bare feet stamped at rough cobblestone and her fingers grabbed at her skirts, hosting them up as her hips swayed. Soon, she caught the scattered beat, dropping the cloth and standing on the fronts of her feet, anklets of golden thread shining through her misery. Now the tempo rose. Her spirits seemed to follow as she spun and jumped about. Her skirts billowed much like Eva's and he could watch the beauty no more. Owltalon shifted through the crowd until he found a familiar face by the recently put together snack table.

"Old crow."

This time he did not debate the title. Magpie looked up from the array of snacks. His eyes searched Owltalon like they'd done time and time before. Magpie's uncanny ability to know what people wanted before they did didn't fail him here.

"They've come to complete a mission in Kluex." Magpie said. His eyes sunk into his face, making the aging bird even older. He picked at the sparse treats Sora brought to the funeral. Settling upon a beakseed muffin, Magpie took a bite. He walked over to the nearest lamppost, then leaned against it. "I've seen enough temples to know where this is going."

"Uncle Mags. Are we going to be-" A lump formed in Owltalon's throat. He grabbed for a cup of water. "-we gonna be okay? They're snatching birds off the damn street and I don't know if that's gonna fly."

"Promise me you won't go out tonight after this. No one is going home alone." He gestured at the shaky groups leaving early as the music picked up in tempo.

"No flappin way am I going home by myself! You're crazy."

"Good. I'm going to take Silver home. I love you, remember that."

"I know that, old crow. Love you too."

"I'm not that wise."

It came with a resounding boom. A sprinkle of bullets and war screeches dragged Owltalon out of his dreams. Reality returned for the second time today, forcing him to scramble back inside from his rooftop slumber. Guns cracked the once peaceful night air into fragments. The resulting mess dug into the feet of the villagers, resulting in a cacophony of screams to accompany the bullets. Owltalon holed up under the window, picking at the paint chips now stuck in his skin.

The town must have attacked the cultists. But how long were they planning this? Had it been tossed about in secret and launched into action due to Eva's untimely death? The smoke of her pyre still hung heavy in the air. Would she approve of her death causing this? Wired beyond all reason, Owltalon forced himself to sleep the best he could. Sora busted about downstairs. They'd be fine.

He'd heard it from the rooftops that bright and clear night after. Owltalon jerked out of his dreams, still tense from fighting of a golden armored Avian. The floor rose to greet his face. His will to move was exhausted. Silver Feather's wails floated through the thin wooden floor. They wrapped around his neck before they choked and pinned him in place. It was impossible though. Magpie was invincible. He'd said so himself. He'd survived bullets to the gut, slashes to the chest that almost sliced into his heart, mysterious creatures from beyond the stars. How could simple Avians kill such a bird.

Silver Feather blubbered below him, each strained attempt of words driving him insane. Magpie was no fool. He'd never go alone. Which meant others had come back withered and weary, spreading doom along with their bloody footsteps. So how many died. How many injured. How many failed to keep Magpie safe when he dragged them out of danger. How many fled.

Which one killed him. Owltalon's fingers twitched, rebellious to his demands of movement. Anything better than the limp embrace with the wood floor. Digging his shoulder into the floor, he sat up. The moment of self congrats was wiped by the lurch of his stomach and the prompt evacuation of anything he'd eaten.

The floor greeted him with open arms. Curled up in a puddle of vomit, the foul stench forced him to retch again. That one caught Sora's attention. She appeared with the grace of a cow, storming in and cussing up a storm about the mess he'd made. He'd curse back if not for the breaks in the words, her arms scooping him up and leaning him against the bed, her gentle fingers wiping his face and peeling off his shirt the way she used to when he was little. Mothering Sora would not stand for this. She propped him back up when he fell back onto the tempting floor. Yes. Sora. Sora, a bright blue blur distracting herself with cleaning. Calling for Silver Feather to run a bath and get a mop. Sora holding control over her broken life. This was the Sora he held a fondness for.

As he soaked in the tub she let his head rest upon her lap as she stroked his plumage. Off key lullabies and lukewarm water lulled him into a makeshift peace. One where the black tips of Magpie's feathers were just out of reach. They tickled at his palms. They weren't there. And never would be.

"Little Mouse."

"I hate that name," he wheezed. Despite the scorn, he pushed his face into Sora's stomach.

"Little Mouse. A bird who can not catch a rodent."

"Stop that."

"I love you like my own." Sora put a stray feather into place. "I am allowed to call you that."

He wanted to screech at her. Curse, slap, hurt her for using that stupid nickname that everyone used. Who else did he have besides her? Father gone. Mother abandoned him. Magpie dead. He wrapped his arms around her as she sung tuneless lullabies in her too proper voice.

Morning came with no fanfare. No markets open today. Not a sound in the early morning light. Leftover mourning cries floated down the street Owltalon walked down. He pulled his too small shirt over his belly fuzz and shivered into his jacket. A few minutes ago he wormed out of Sora and Silver Feather's grasp. The heavy, clumsy sleepers might have made good pillows, but other than that they were dead weight.

A solemn air condensed in his lungs. Excitement. All of it was gone, replaced by an aching emptiness. Windows gaped and gasped at him, their glass broken in the crossfire of retreating villagers. Chipped stone crunched under his boots along with forgotten bullets, some laced with blood. He twirled a feather in his hand, the tell tale white and black tipped plumage of Magpie. Blinking away the tears, Owltalon marched onward. It was to cramped here. The village was too small without him. Depression drowned him, weighing down his breaths between counting the infinite bullets lodged in walls but never through them.

His feet directed him through narrow side streets to Elm Wing's house. Perhaps he'd coax her into letting him wrap his arms around her and inhale the scent of flowers and lemon oil. It sounded better than the heavy sleepers at home. Some normalcy would return. Boring. No excitement. Just life and a broken happiness. He exhaled a bit of sorrow. All would be well. Elm would coax him back to a dream land with her hips and fluttering skirts, her self made happiness in motion. Her house lay just at the end of the alley. Just at the end of the alley. Just at the end of the alley. Seconds before a blow connected with the back of his head.

The temple's view was majestic. No other word could describe it. Beyond the town, beyond the boulder decorated hills, to the blue mountains that stole color from the sky. Everything in his sight and a single step to make towards it. Eva had been up here too, dressed in the same robes but in white. He wrote a plain blue pants underneath that held the theoretical Magpie feather in the waistband. If he was going to die, they could at least allow him to carry it with him. A memento of what they would later destroy. Behind him the temple worshippers watched with stern faces by an open door.

"You may get your wings back, if you believe in Kluex. He will save you. If not, then you shall get them in the afterlife."

"If I get the flipping things either way, why can't I just die like a normal Avian? I got them clipped like everyone else!"

"Because you have not worshiped Kluex as we have. Have faith."

The guard prodded at Owltalon's back with the wrong end of a spear. It sliced through his skin. Yelping, he shivered as cold air licked at his wounds. At home, Sora and Silver Feather woke to one less Avian in their midst. At home, Elm Wing had no idea how close he was to succumbing to a burning need for comfort. At home, no one knew they'd be taken away and shoved into certain death. The spear dug into his flesh once again. Eva. She'd been here too. Stabbed. Killed in both body and mind. The sharp pain blurred his mind long enough to make him stagger. Forward, into the rock peppered hills and sky mountains that would remain longer than he. But Magpie was with him, like he promised. That would do.

_Please don't spread the Blight of Kluex._


End file.
